Dojo membership

 Newsletter 04/03              

Really how does someone join a dojo or a martial art school in order to practice a certain art? He just walks in, makes his wishes known to whoever is in charge, pays his fees, signs a liability waiver and he is a member. And of course wherever he wants, he leaves this dojo to join another one. This is a long way from the way the feudal warrior entered a dojo in old Japan. The similarities and differences of these ways are an accurate reflection of the similarities and differences between koryu bujutsu and Gendai (modern) budo.

 First of all we must understand that the idea of the dojo or ryu, as it is today, began less than 100 years ago. In feudal times the ryu was seen as a combination of an extended family, an intense and lengthy apprenticeship program, and often as a semi-religious order

 Early ryu had little use for large numbers of students, expensive fees for training, or for professional instructors. A select group of faithful students and a sponsor were all that was necessary. Sponsorship was normally covered by a daimyo or feudal lord, for the sensei to instruct daimyo’s warriors; in very few cases dojo were maintained privately. Money was rarely a consideration for the top instructors of the ryu or the dojo, which in the great majority were coincided The sensei was supported the same way all lord's other samurai were supported. That is why most ancient ryu were developed in geographically narrow areas, as the training institution for the samurai (army) of the various daimyo. And we must keep in mind that traditional ryu (koryu) included training in all aspects of armed and unarmed combat. Otherwise, the headmaster depended on gifts and offerings from his disciples.

How then, did the prospective disciple enter the ryu's dojo? Basically by persistence. At first, the applicant had to approach the dojo with letters of introduction, or shokai and recommendation from someone known and respected by the masters of the ryu. This was followed by a check into the applicant's background. It is apparent that since he would enter daimyo’s military service, this check was necessary. 

Once his background was ascertained and his acceptance was confirmed, the applicant took the keppan (blood oath). Keppan was a written loyalty oath, signed or sealed with the applicant's blood. The pledge itself was referred to as a kisho or a kishomon. The oath varied from ryu to ryu; however the classical warrior had a small scar on one of his fingers, or inside his arm, from his encounter with the keppan. Practically unnoticeable, it reminded him of the great honour it was to be a part of his ryu. The famous Japanese novelist and writer Mishima Yukio, who committed ritual suicide (sepuku) in 1970, had asked the members of his private martial group, the Tate no Kai, to take the keppan, upon joining the group.

 
            Although by taking the keppan the aspiring warrior became an official member of the ryu, his application was still not complete. He was eligible only for a trial period, usually referred to as te hodoki (unleashing of hands). It was a time of probation, in general a severe one, where the beginner was ordered to perform all sorts of domestic chores-chopping wood, preparing meals, washing uniforms etc. It was a test to see how much he'd tolerate and to ascertain how badly he wanted to learn. If the beginner performed his assigned tasks with patience and dignity he was soon accepted into the beginning ranks of the ryu and was teached fragments of the curriculum, not necessarily in order. Vital teachings were omitted or they were arranged in such ways that they didn’t make sense. Only after the student had fully earned the trust of the sensei, he was fully admitted to the ryu.

He became then a monjin (a person at the gate) of the ryu's teachings. In some instances, full admittance to a ryu was signalled by the teaching of some apparently insignificant skill. Some ryu had a ritual of etiquette which was taught after a certain level of proficiency was gained. The members of  the ryu had the feeling of nakama (within the interior space) with the other members of their ryu. Joining a ryu meant more than just attending lessons and learning skills; it was much like a family. They had shared similar  training, totally unique to those outside it; they shared a common bond among them, as members of the ryu.

 
            Ancient students felt like they belonged, a feeling that carries over into present-day Japan, where the individual is judged (and often judges himself) according to the groups he belongs. Even today, when a Japanese craftsman wishes to convey the scope of his training, he sometimes uses the expression, "I shared the mat with X Sensei." To share the mat or sit on the mat with a high-ranked sensei has a particular significance or meaning. It means that the secrets and skills of his art have been passed directly  down to him by the X Sensei. He is the inheritor of the master's particular way of doing the craft.

 
            A lot of the budo customs have changed over the years but they haven't really been lost at all. There are no longer any keppan oaths, only a few schools follow something like the period of probation, but serious budoka respect the same bonds of belonging, that their ancestors did. Today's budoka feels (or he should feel) that he is part of a very special group that springs from a distinct and honorable lineage. Students of the Shotokan style, regardless of the organization, train in front of a portrait of Gichin Funakoshi, and they derive deep satisfaction knowing that their sensei, in a certain way, is connected directly or through his sensei to this great man.

At the Kase Ha Shôtôkan Ryu Karate-Dô Instructors Academy, we are proud of belonging to a special and distinct group, which adhere to budo, rather than sport, karate. Following the wish of T. Kase sensei, the Academy  will move on the budo way. This will not be possible unless we, as members of this group, follow  the budo way in all aspects of everyday life, not in training only. 

Therefore we have to stand in front of the mirror and looking deeply in our eyes, to ask ourselves ‘’ Do I really believe in budo? Am I ready to follow the way to its full extent? ‘’. A sincere answer, certainly a private one, would be very interesting and determinative for our development in karate and character as well.

By Spiros G. Drossoulakis